Guest Post: Mohita Raghav.

December 18, 2013 § 3 Comments

Etched in Aeons

In life, we always find that one person; who makes that moment of discovery seem like
a dream. They are like the surreal aspect of our forbidden dreams come to life. The
moment they enter our realm, they spread their surreality into every aspect of our

We have seen them. We have known them from eons; from the beginning of time. We
have touched them with our dream fingers. We have laid bare our souls to them already;
in an inexplicable realm of which we were the masters. We created them for ourselves in
moments, wherein we thought that we were destined to die alone. We invoked them in
rituals of our carnal fantasies. We have already slept a hundred nights in their arms and
have woken up on their spectral kisses. We have spent a million tender and vulnerable
moments with them already.

It has become hard to pinpoint that dividing line between them and reality. It has
become hard to tell whether we created them in a magical bout of imagination or they
came as an idea destined to strike us. It is nearly impossible to delineate whether we
morphed them according to our whims or we metamorphosed according to them; to
become their’s.

Lines smudged a long time back.

We committed ourselves to the fantasy and damned ourselves to a long phase of
hermit-like searching until we realized the futility of it all. We, then, pulled ourselves
together and consoled ourselves that such people only existed in fantasies…
Until they walk into our real lives; in flesh and blood, better than we sculpted them in

What, then, can be done?

I could not decide. I was transfixed, looking at him with a mindfloating upon
numbness like a water-baby.

He was sitting alone on a table; with a half-finished sandwich, coffee mug and an
open pocket-diary. He was bent over his laptop, his long fingers flying over the

I stood upon the threshold of disbelief and panic. Already vulnerable to him.
Defenceless. Thrilled and flabbergasted altogether. I wanted to run away. I wanted
to run to him. I wanted to brand him with a kiss. I wanted to hide. In a bout of
seemingly sane self-defense, I even wanted to kill him.

It was at this moment when, prompted by something palpable but unseen, he raised
his eyes to look at me. And smiled a knowing smile. As if he had been waiting too. As
if he knew we will meet.

It was at this moment that all avenues of escape closed faster than they’d

And I was lost.

About the Author:

Mohita is a wonderful person I know from Twitter. She writes stuff that you ave to read more than once, so you can grasp it. So you can absorb it.

Read her blog here. I insist.

Guest Post : Carl D’Agostino.

February 12, 2013 § 10 Comments

The day Mrs. Sable brought a television to class

shep 1

shep 2

shep 3

shep 4

~Carl D’Agostino.

About Carl:

Carl is one of the first WordPress users who bumped onto my blog, and stuck with me. He is the reason i know so many other blogs here, and the bloggers. He is an amazing Cartoonist. You can follow his blog here.


December 3, 2012 § 31 Comments

i don’t want to write.


i don’t understand the point of writing.

i think it is meant to fuck with you.

to crush you, to beat you down.


writing isn’t for the logical. they¬†know.

it’s for the irrational and contradicted.

it’s for the ones who mentally masturbate.


writing is a fallacy and i am a part of it.


no one wins, but the reader.

the writer, loses.

his sanity. his emotions. his words. his deepest desires.


we intentionally crush ever cell of our fucking brain.

so that we can squeeze out something worthy.


we try conveying our feelings with words.

you can’t do that.

words corrupt.


you’re fighting with reality.

reality has a gun.

boom boom!

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